


Another Day When Nothing Happens

by Halkyone



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abstract, Closeted, Denial, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 21:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halkyone/pseuds/Halkyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chekov and Sulu aren't lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day When Nothing Happens

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably edit this a bit more, but I've been sitting on it for far too long already. Concrit appreciated!

It’s another day when nothing happens, coming to the end of shore leave, two young officers stretching their legs by wandering as far as a cheap bar. Grime’s exciting when you live for months surrounded by brushed steel.

  
They're as bright and animated here together as the first day they met, and working side by side hasn't dulled their easy companionship. They're restless, watchful, moving towards the door with each drink, with lingering eyes that can be passed off as fuddled slowness.

  
It’s only natural to throw an arm around each other on the walk home, made stumbling and affectionate by alcohol, deliberately careless. Chattering about inconsequential things enough to keep their mouths busy and apart, letting their minds disengage and wander.

  
The slow game begins of manoeuvring to one another’s rooms, gently steering as they wander, avoiding the bright hubs where someone is always awake. They know this ship like the whorls of their palms but always manage to appear surprised by reaching their destination.

  
The elaborate declarations of tiredness start and the regulation beds are assessed to be big enough for two, if they lie pressed up together, come on, it’s alright, because nothing will happen, will it, won’t it. They’re just friends who make each other’s breath catch in their throats.

  
Nothing happens hard and fast and repeatedly, bruising lips, tearing off clothes. Nothing happens desperately, urgently, with smiles for their intimacy and the hint of a laugh at their pretence that this isn't the way they live, born naturally of the way they are, that it won't happen again and again.

  
They’ll never let on learning what the other wants. A bite and suck in the soft hollow below the ear that sends the younger man arching off the bed with a tiny gasp, a scrape of nails to make his friend shudder and moan.

  
And the urge never rises, in daylight, to say, I know your face when you’re concentrating, I know your quick steady hands, I know them, I love them, I love  
Well.  
You.


End file.
